Angel's Wings
by Captain Jackie Harkness
Summary: After Castiel's Fall, Dean and Sam are having to keep a close eye on him. He hardly speaks, he doesn't sleep, and he often talks to the stars as if talking to his brothers and sisters above. One night, Dean walks in on him when he's doing this... Along with something else...


Castiel was different in the days after he Fell. He hardly spoke, and when he did, it was an all-work-no-play comment, then silence. The Winchester brothers would often catch him sitting beneath the stars, talking to them as if they could hear him.

Dean was inside the motel, sat in a chair by the window. The lights were out and Sam was asleep, but he was wide awake, staring out at Cas as he, for the second night in a row, stayed up staring at the night sky. Dean feared that he didn't quite grasp the fact that humans needed sleep, and that Cas was human now. It scared him to think he was slowly wearing away, unsure of why.

The fallen angel was sitting on the curb, his once shining blue eyes dulled with lack of sleep. The only shines in what once could have been passed off as sapphires were the reflections of the tiny lights that littered the atmosphere. Only someone such as Castiel saw these glittering specks as they really were; his once-upon-a-time brothers and sisters, looking down at him, probably with disgust.

These balls of light, however, weren't looking down at their brother with a look of contempt. In fact, the angels were looking down on Castiel with sorrow, feeling pain in their chests as they heard each and every one of their names come from his lips.

"Goodbye, Ezra. Farewell, Judah." Castiel read off the long list of names forever imprinted into his memories. As he spoke the last few names of his siblings, he felt as if he were drowning in the black of night. Feelings of hopelessness and loss flooded his heart, and with shaky hands, he drew from his trench coat the item that would end his misery.

Now that Cas was human, he had his own guardian angel watching over him. He never spoke the name of this angel when saying his farewells, because the angel wasn't from Heaven. This angel swore, he killed, and his favorite place in the world was the bar. His guardian angel was silent as he approached, his brilliant hazel eyes squinting in curiosity as he caught the glint of something metallic in Cas' hands.

Castiel closed his eyes, tears washing over his cheeks as he repositioned the dagger with the tip to his heart. The blade was meant for the purpose of killing angels, and Cas felt it was the only suiting weapon to bring his end. With cold hands gripping the handle of the knife, he whispered some final words.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said in a voice almost inaudible. He grit his teeth, just about the plunge the metal through his chest, when his angel grabbed the razor end of the blade. Castiel opened his waterlogged eyes and peered up, dark bags threatening to pull his eyelids down.

Dean had never seen Cas so weak, so sad. He felt the edges of the angel seraph slicing his palm, but he ignored it, nulling out the pain with sheer concern for his friend. "Cas," he said, his voice seemingly worn. It was apparent that Castiel wasn't the only one staying up all hours of the night. "Why?"

When he spoke, his voice wavered and cracked as to reflect his broken spirit. "This is the only way back to Heaven, Dean."

Castiel felt Dean's grip on the blade tighten, and he looked down to their hands. His were shaky as he let go, leaving only Dean's bleeding fist. He slowly retracted the knife, releasing the blade and tucking it into his jacket. As soon as he opened up his palm, drops of blood raced down his fingers, splattering onto the pavement, though he hardly seemed to notice.

"You need to sleep," Dean said gently, offering out his good hand to Cas. The black haired man looked at it, and then with a clammy hand of his own, he held it. Dean helped the other man up, but even after he was sturdily on his feet, he held him tight.

"You listen to me." His face was written over with fear, bad memories surfacing in the back of his mind. "If you 'go back to Heaven', I'll follow you, just to drag your ass back down here. Got it?"

Cas swallowed back more tears that threatened to fall, feeling his hand being squeezed subconsciously by his friend. "Why?" he asked in a voice softer than cotton. "What use am I now?"

Dean's response was a wobbly laugh. He turned his head away, though Castiel could still see the diamond that fell. When he looked back at him, his eyes were misted over, a trail left on his cheek. "What use are you?" he repeated, nearly choking on the words. "You're my family, Cas."

He put a general hand on Dean's shoulder, forcing him to make eye contact. "I'm suffering, Dean," he said soothingly. "Let me go."

Dean shook his head, unable to restrain the tears that escaped. He pulled Cas into an embrace, hugging him tight and burying his face in the tan fabric of his coat. Castiel held him in his arms, taking in his familiar scent. He couldn't imagine leaving him behind, being without him for even a day. How could he, just moments ago, have asked him to let him go?

"I can't do that," mumbled Dean. "I've lost too many people already. I can't lose you, too."

Cas brought him closer, grabbing handfuls of his leather jacket and letting small crystals slide down his face. "You won't. You never will," he promised, feeling how rapidly his friend's heart was beating. As he spoke the words, he felt it calm, returning to a steady pace. Dean released him, smiling an exhausted smile.

"Good," he swallowed, putting a hand on his back and leading him back into the motel. Neither of them spoke as Dean lead him to the empty bed, taking off his coats and leaving him in his dress shirt and pants. With calm fingers, Dean undid Cas' blue tie, loosening it and sliding it over his head.

Cas didn't take his eyes off him once as he prepared him for bed. He stared up at him as he pulled back the covers, telling him to put his head down. He did just so, his blue eyes regaining just a little bit of their glimmer. Dean pulled the covers up over his shoulders, tucking him in as he had done for Sam every night when he was a kid, and secretly still did whenever his brother had fits and discarded the blankets.

"What about you?" Castiel asked as Dean grabbed an old cloth and wrapped up his hand. He froze, turning back around to see the very essence of the sky looking at him. He gave a weak grin, too exhausted to give anything other.

"I'm not tired," he said simply, holding his gaze a moment longer before returning to his post by the window. Cas knitted together his eyebrows, detecting the very obvious lie.

"You are," he said softly, and Dean shrugged, slumping in his seat.

"There's three dudes and two beds. I'll just do some research."

The fallen angel's next response caught him off guard. "We could share."

Dean looked at him, face emotionless. "That's a bit weird, don't you think?"

Castiel bit his lip a little, shifting on the mattress. "There's three dudes and two beds. It is compromise," he smirked.

Dean thought about it; there was a chance he would doze off in the chair- a big chance- and he wanted to keep a close eye on Cas to assure he wouldn't try anything. Too tired to come up with any other ideas, Dean walked over to the bed, crawling in beside Cas. They faced each other, just looking into the other's eyes without a word.

"Goodnight, Cas," Dean whispered after a long while, a small smile on his face.

"Goodnight, Dean," Castiel smiled in return, closing his over-heavy eyes. Dean sighed, following his lead and allowing himself to sink into the pillows. Both men drifted away just after 1 A.M., fingers just barely touching under the pure white bed sheets.


End file.
